A/N - hi, thanks for the reviews. So, part 6 has less Jen angst, no more deaths and some other stuff! Although, actually I think it's still quite angsty. And the other stuff is... well, you'll see.

Seeing Red – part 6

'"Don't screw up," the words resounded; mantra-like in Tony's head, over and over until he seriously thought of slamming his skull into the wall of the elevator to see if the impact would make them stop. It was a given that the voice repeating the admonition sounded a lot like Gibbs.

But Gibbs wasn't here to speak the words out loud. He'd taken the Director and disappeared into the night and while Tony understood the necessity for their vanishing act, there was something a little disquieting about the fact that he didn't know where they'd gone. No one knew, except possibly Fornell – and he wasn't talking.

The details were still a little hazy; one minute they'd been investigating the shooting, the next there had been a phone call and suddenly he was having a hurried conversation with Gibbs about being in charge of the case. There had been the requisite instructions; telling him to make certain that Fraiser was their guy, to follow the investigation to its conclusion and use any advantage that came his way. Tony was still trying to figure out what that meant, just as he was still trying to work out if Gibbs and the Director were really lying low somewhere – or if they'd gone to pursue Fraiser on their own. If it was the latter, he really didn't think he wanted to know.

But, in their absence the investigation from hell had dropped into his hands. The team was his once more and as he exited the elevator to see their tired, dispirited faces, he knew it was up to him to keep them going.

They looked a lot like a group of people who'd been up for most of the night; slumped at their desks, heads down. Abby had escaped from her lab and was sitting at Gibbs' desk, shuffling disconsolately through his papers. From experience Tony knew she would take his absence hard, even though this time that absence was temporary.

"OK," everyone looked at him as he stood in the centre of the desks. "I know we're all tired, I know we're worried about Gibbs and the Director – but I'm sure they are fine. And they're counting on us to move this case forward. So, what do we have?"

"Metro PD found Colette Andrews' body about 4 hours ago," Ziva began, "Ducky has the body, the evidence we collected at the scene is here." Tony remembered all too vividly the little patch of waste-ground where the body had lain, this time there had been no dappled glade, no heart stopping moment of recognition at the sight of the victim. Not for them at least. This time it had been the Director who had recognised their victim and it was going to be a while before he forgot the expression in her eyes as she'd pushed past him the previous evening. "She was due at a meeting yesterday afternoon – but did not arrive. Our best guess is that she went missing at lunch time, since he knew her Fraiser would have had little difficulty in abducting her. Maybe he invited her to lunch."

"We have a BOLA out on his jeep," McGee added, "nothing so far, but if he's smart he'll have dumped it by now, started using something else. I haven't been able to find any other property registered in his name, he isn't using any of his credit cards, or bank accounts, his cell phone and internet accounts are inactive."

"Keep checking, he has to be somewhere," Tony pointed out, "he has to be using something to live on."

"I'm using a programme I developed to review his movements in the last three months," of course McGee had a programme – there was something reassuring about that. "I've fed in the Director's schedule, the places we know Fraiser had a reason to be for business and I'm looking for anomalies, somewhere he ate regularly or had coffee." It was a long shot – but he didn't have anything against long shots right now.

"What about the stuff we took from his apartment?"

"Well," Abby was still leaning her head on her hands, still looking depressed, "the good news is that I identified trace that matched places where two of the bodies were found."

"And the bad news?"

"There was no indication that any of the dead women had been in that apartment. He definitely has somewhere else to take them once he abducts them. Sorry,"

"Can't argue with the evidence – or the lack of it in this case." He sighed, this wasn't exactly helping to rebuild their energy." So, if Andrews went missing at lunch time, Fraiser didn't have long to abduct and kill her, dump the body and then make it back in time to shoot at the Director and her detail."

"It doesn't take long to drug someone and then strangle them," Ziva pointed out.

"But it does take time to travel between locations." Tony thought back to the apartment he'd stood in on the previous day, "he's obsessed with Shepherd, he thinks he's in love with her. He's had access to her schedule for months, he's used that information to stay close to her."

"Well, he can't go back to his job, so we've cut off that source of information," McGee pointed out, "we're fairly certain he's not using electronic surveillance methods. We haven't found any bugs or recording equipment."

"Too impersonal," Tony mused, "Fraiser is your hands on type of stalker. He'd want to be near her. Probie, check the houses within a couple of streets of the Directors'. Look for any houses that are empty – it's a fancy neighbourhood, someone's bound to be wintering in a warmer climate or taken a posting overseas."

There was a moment when nothing happened, when he realised that Ziva and McGee had probably forgotten that he was the one in charge. And then recognition clicked in and they bent over computer and phone to pursue the suggestion he'd made. It wasn't much to go on – but his gut, to borrow an overused concept, told him they were on the right lines. Sometimes you needed a little luck to break a case – though Gibbs would no doubt tell him that you make your own luck. But Gibbs wasn't here.

Tony looked over to where Abby was still sitting, her shoulders hunched, big eyes full of concern. "They'll be OK," he said quietly, "the Director knows how to handle herself – and Gibbs, well, he's Gibbs."

But even as he spoke he remembered the previous evening, remembered Jenny's intensity, the flickering speed of her emotions – and Gibbs' response to it. Tony suspected the other man hadn't even realised that he was responding and every fibre of his existence told him he didn't want to be in the vicinity when he, or they, figured it out.

Gibbs felt better after some sleep and a shower. It was a feeling that lasted until he emerged onto the deck, to find Mike fiddling with what might be fishing gear and no sign of Jen. His gaze swept along the beach and then came to rest on a lone figure sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees, looking out at the waves crashing onto the shore. A baseball cap covered her hair and she was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. It had literally been years since he'd seen her so casually dressed and in a crowd he might not have recognised her. But, on this empty beach there was no doubting her identity and even though he couldn't see her face, there was no mistaking the message of her body language.

"How long's she been out there?" He asked over his shoulder. Mike looked up, followed his gaze and shrugged.

"A couple of hours. You think she's trying to decide whether or not to make a break for it?" Actually, he thought she was probably reflecting on four dead women and a murdered agent. He doubted she was planning anything as uncomplicated as an escape.

The previous night had not been without its tensions. Franks had never been a fan of the brass and was still having trouble coming to terms with the idea that NCIS had a female Director. He'd hardly bothered to hide the disrespect from Jen, who, on another day, could probably have charmed him into submission. But it wasn't another day – and the fact that she had met every one of his digs with a taut silence was almost as alarming as the fact that she'd scarcely got any sleep the previous night.

She'd left the two men sitting on the deck after they'd bought Franks up to speed, but when he'd gone to check on her some time later she'd been wide awake enough to reach for her gun at the first sound of footsteps. He'd only stayed long enough to grab something to sleep in, and to agree that she would take the mattress in the spare bedroom, while he would crash on the living room couch. But the walls in the cabin were thin and he had heard her moving around for hours, forcing himself not to go to her. He'd slept – finally, but if she'd been out here for as long as Mike said, then it was clear she had not.

"You going to tell me why you brought her here, rather than stashing her in a hotel room with half a dozen agents to sit on her?" He'd been expecting that question, had been moderately surprised that it hadn't been asked last night

"She's my responsibility."

"Bull!" Well, he supposed it was worth a try.

"She was my partner Mike, you go above and beyond for your partner – you taught me that," and having taught him this, his former partner was certainly not above calling on that relationship when he needed to.

"She's not your partner any more probie. Different rules apply to the Director." It was too accurate a statement for him to challenge and anyway it seemed that Mike was just getting started. "You know you aren't going to be able to save her." Gibbs looked towards his former mentor, shocked at the statement.

"I'm not going to let him hurt her." The curl of unease in his stomach was a warning that he hadn't understood, so he wasn't surprised when Mike shook his head.

"I'm not talking about this. I'm talking about you thinking you can stop her from getting swallowed up by the politics. You can't. Only she can decide which side she's on – she isn't going to be able to walk the line for ever."

"That isn't true. " But even as he said the words he knew that Mike was right, that everything he had done or said in relation to Jen since she had become the Director was predicated on the belief that, sooner or later, she would fall; unless he was there to remind her what the cost of such a fall would be.

"She'll disappoint you – if she hasn't already. You'll take it personally, blame her more that you'd blame anyone else in that position. You expect more from her."

"Because I know what she can do." Mike didn't reply, instead he muttered something under his breath that might have included the phrase 'red heads,' but Gibbs couldn't be certain and decided he didn't want to know.

When it came to Jen, he was a master of not thinking too much. He didn't let himself think about the way the air in a room seemed to change when they got a little too close, or when they fought. He didn't analyse what it meant that he noticed the sad expression she sometimes wore when Hollis was around, or dwell too much on the little tingle of pleasure he got from knowing he could make her jealous.

She looked up as he approached. He could see the traces of fatigue in her eyes, though the flash of anger and defiance there as well was surprisingly heartening. He never thought he'd be grateful that he could still make her angry.

"Mike's going into town," he said, "it wouldn't hurt you to get some rest."

"I'm fine," her tone seemed to have effectively ended the discussion, he shrugged, not willing to debate the point.

"Then how about a walk?" She looked momentarily surprised, but pushed herself to her feet, dug her hands into her pockets and followed him. They walked in silence for a while, the warmth of the day, the breeze from the sea – it should have been pleasant, but the situation was too complicated for that.

"How long do you think we'll have to stay here?" She asked at last,

"Don't know."

"Somehow I doubt this was what 'they' expected when they made you responsible for my safety."

"We didn't discuss the details, the agreement was that I did it my way. Fraiser knows you Jen and he knows your schedule. If we'd stayed in DC he'd have still been able to find you, you'd be going to meetings, working." She stopped walking and looked at him,

"And instead we just sit here and wait? For how long?"

"He's obsessed, relentless – he won't stop until he has you. So far he's called all the shots. I know you hate this, but the truth is, you disappearing will make him panic, and then he doesn't have control anymore – we do."

"And while we're hoping to regain control I'm not running NCIS and my position is a lot more vulnerable than it was before all of this began."

"You think this is all a political conspiracy?" Admittedly that motive hadn't occurred to him – he considered it now, marginally concerned that he wasn't dismissing it as completely outlandish.

"I think my enemies are more than capable of taking advantage of this situation." It was an unwelcome reminder that he didn't understand her life, or the choices she had made. She'd been on the fast track long before they'd even met – idly he wondered if she had any idea what her next step on the career ladder was going to be.

"I hate that he's driven me into hiding," she said quietly, "that everything I've worked for is at risk. I hate feeling as though I have the blood of four innocent women and a damn good agent on my hands. But I won't be his victim." He couldn't promise that no one else would get hurt and knew she wouldn't ask that of him. But the reassurance escaped him anyway.

"Jen, we're going to stop him." She shrugged, clearly unconvinced and he put his hand on her shoulder before she could turn away. He wasn't prepared to see her look as though she didn't believe him.

The previous night he'd touched her cheek, he could remember the silky warmth of her skin against the rough pads of his fingertips. Now, that same hand rested on her shoulder in a gesture of support and companionship that would never have stumbled into something more - if his thumb hadn't touched her collarbone. He saw the pulse jump at the base of her neck and before he realised it had happened his fingertips had moved to brush lightly at the spot.

She moistened her lips, an involuntary action that moved them from warm to sizzling in less time than it took to blink. Suddenly they were teetering on the edge of the precipice and whatever happened next, he knew he couldn't be the one to send them over the edge.

"Jen," she wasn't stupid, she understood the look in his eyes, could read the yearning in the way he spoke her name. She could tell what he was offering and what he was holding back. His touch to the sensitive skin of her throat was more of a temptation than she'd expected.

She thought they'd buried this, lost it a lifetime ago. But here they were and the attraction was as alive as it had ever been, just infinitely more complex. It was useless to pretend that it wasn't a huge boost to her ego that he wanted her. But did she know what she wanted from him? His friendship and respect; his trust? If she were honest she wasn't sure that was even on offer here.

"You know this beach doesn't even have a proper name." It wasn't like him to be fanciful and she wondered who he was trying to convince that this was a moment out of time, separate from their tangled present.

"And so what happens here doesn't count, people can't be hurt by it?" She was damned if she was going to be the one to mention Hollis. It wasn't her responsibility to remember that he was involved with someone else.

"People get hurt all the time." That sounded more like the authentic Gibbs, but she wasn't ready to let him get away with that.

"Last night DiNozzo asked me if I thought Fraiser wanted Jenny or the Director. Who is it that you want Jethro?"

"I'm not sure it's a good idea for me to want the Director," though she appreciated his honesty, she was disappointed by his answer.

"I'm not asking you whether it's a good idea – I'm asking what you want." His hand on her shoulder was warm, heavy with promise – a reminder of the things she couldn't allow herself. Yet, this was a way to take refuge from the storm and not have the moment of weakness used against her. Here was proof that someone could desire her and not demand her capitulation.

But he turned away, his decision apparently made. His hand slipped from her, lingering along her arm, his touch regretful. And then she realised that the move was hers, the game not yet played out.

"I didn't realise you were such a coward," she breathed, the words taunting him into turning back. As he moved she closed the distance between them, his mouth already opening in protest. But the words died on his lips, swallowed by her kiss.

He surrendered, responding hungrily to her, his arms surrounding her, pulling her close. She luxuriated in the heat and passion between them, savouring her victory. Until she realised there was every chance he had manoeuvred her into making the first move.

TBC